


Synchronized

by Arrestzelle



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Body Worship, Kissing, M/M, Sehnsucht Era, Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 09:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16658131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: Schneider finds himself especially attracted to Paul one night. After a concert, he joins him in his hotel room.





	Synchronized

**Author's Note:**

> A quick warm-up I wrote an hour ago. Posting it before I work on my other WIP. Enjoy!

There was something irresistible about Paul tonight. Maybe it was the atmosphere. His energy. His behavior. His cool-headed, stone-faced persona on stage. The juxtaposition of his typical enthusiastic personality. Schneider is familiar with this, though. Paul often puts on the act of a hardcore, cold metalhead guitarist, when on stage.

He can’t quite put his finger on what’s different, but he finds himself watching him during the show, down to his right, whenever he has the opportunity to. Maybe it was their conversation before the concert. Himself, Paul, and Richard stood around smoking, discussing plans post-concert, and Paul was grinning and gesturing and laughing—wearing that silver crop top and those baggy pants with the chrome boots. Thinking back on it, Schneider did silently appreciate his body, the unusual charm of it, and of him, and how he looked in that outfit. Maybe he’s just feeling horny. Who even knows.

But at the afterparty, Paul is noticeably withholding his drinking, instead opting to chat with fans and goof around as per usual. Schneider is relieved Paul doesn’t seem to want to hook up with any of the hot girls currently flirting with him. As for himself, he purposefully dodges talking to any girl that looks him up a little too much. He’s not in the mood to reject.

Afterwards, once a consensus to leave is established at nearly two in the morning, Schneider follows closely to Paul: out of the venue, to the carpool van. He takes a seat beside him, and intently watches Paul while said man talks to him tiredly.

At their hotel, the six of them take the elevator together, laughing and talking and singing (some of them are quite drunk). Once on their floor, after they all filter out, Schneider gently grabs Paul’s bicep, earning a glance from curious gray eyes, and leans in to whisper into his ear, “Let’s go to your room.”

He’s given a curious, interested look and then a nod. Schneider’s belly tingles with anticipation. Paul loudly says goodnight to the others with an obnoxious wave of his arm, earning a quick kiss to the cheek from Richard, a wave from Ollie, a nod from Till, and a flash of a middle finger from a very intoxicated Flake. Then, he turns on his heel and begins to pace towards his door. Schneider follows, cracking his knuckles subconsciously.

Once in the hotel room, in the newfound privacy, Schneider shuts the door behind them quietly. Paul has yet to turn the lights on. Schneider can see the vague form of him with the aid of the moonlight filtering in through the wide windows at the other end of the room.

“What’s up, Schneider?” Paul asks innocently. Schneider steps closer to Paul’s shrouded figure and reaches out. Paul is silent in front of him. This close now, Schneider can see the lines of his face, the simple smile on his cute lips. Schneider gingerly, delicately drifts his calloused fingers up from Paul’s wrists, over his forearms, feeling the soft touch of his arm hair. Across his biceps, to find his jaw. Paul huffs in front of him and says quietly, “So this explains all that staring.”

“You looked… Different today,” Schneider whispers. “B-Beautiful. I couldn’t stop thinking about touching you. I don’t know. I’m bad with this sort of thing. With you.”

Paul is silent in front of him. He doesn’t say anything. Schneider’s heart is racing a little bit, anxious he said something wrong, that he’s being far too daring. Paul steps closer. Their bodies are nearly touching. It’s suddenly become increasingly intimate. He looks up at Schneider with a simple smile, but a faint smile isn’t always a good thing on Paul’s face. It’s deceiving. Schneider can’t really read him sometimes.

Paul nods. Schneider is relieved when the other man arches up onto his toes to angle his head and gently connect their lips.

Letting out a deep breath through his nose, Schneider closes his eyes and cups Paul’s face, feeling the scratch of stubble. Their mouths begin to tenderly overlap together. A slow, easy back and forth that feels so natural, almost painfully right, in a cliché way.

It’s become like this lately; an usual synchronism that is unlikely between them. They’re never quite meeting half-way, at the right speeds, at the right time. They have very opposing currents. But recently, for whatever reason, Paul has become the right hole for his key, both in the mental sense, and the _physical_ sense, really. Schneider nearly snorts against Paul’s mouth with that thought. But he just smiles against him instead, and it has Paul humming happily into it. Schneider is pleasantly surprised when Paul drapes an arm around him, his slender hand fanning out over his shoulder blades through his silver stage top.

They kiss chastely for a moment longer, mouths pursing together, a tender, warm sharing of their lips that fills Schneider with a lovely contentment. Paul is a good kisser. With a final, firm press of their mouths, Paul settles back on his feet and laughs lightly in the darkness. Schneider speaks up before he could.

“Can—can you lay down? And can I touch you?”

Paul pauses, and then huffs another laugh.

“You’re daring tonight. You didn’t drink _that_ much.”

Schneider says nothing; waiting for consent. Paul’s lips curl into that smile again.

“Yes. You can. I’m so tired, I might pass out, though. Just saying.”

“That’s fine.”

“What, you mean you would enjoy touching me even when I’m unconscious? You’re so dirty, Schneider.”

Schneider’s face burns. He really walked into that, didn’t he?

“I—You—Shut up.”

Paul bursts out a laugh and then brings his arm down from around Schneider to take his broad hand in his own instead. He squeezes his fingers. Then he turns and leads him to the bed, still giggling at his stupid comment.

 

With the soft glow of the bedside lamp washing over them, Paul is lounging back on the newly-made covers of the hotel bed, now lacking his ashen crop top and his chrome boots. His baggy stage pants hangs low on his hips. A smug look is on his face. His blonde hair is haphazard. Schneider has his big hands on his hips, enjoying the simple touch of his warm skin. He admires his muscular, yet somehow slender, body with wide eyes. His belly hair is noticeably thicker—a happy trail is peeking up past his pants, reaching his belly button.

Without a word, Schneider leans in to appreciatively kiss at his hips and tummy. A hand rests lightly on his head, fingers threading into his dark curls. His face burns brighter from the touch as he mouths his way across Paul’s soft stomach. They haven’t showered yet. He can still taste the slightest hint of sweat. Schneider boldly peeks his tongue out to lick up over Paul’s belly, feeling the tickle of his happy trail under his tongue. Here, too, tastes faintly of his sweat. Paul hums.

Schneider noses at his belly button and then presses soft kisses higher up over his midsection. His skin is overheated. Schneider cups his hands around his sides and then turns his head to rest his ear upon his chest. His skin is warm against his cheek. His light chest hair is tickling his face, as well. Paul’s hand affectionately cups around the side of his head, almost cradling him to his chest. Schneider stares out towards the opposite wall, listening to Paul’s heartbeat.

“Mmm,” Paul mumbles, “I am… Falling asleep.”

“That’s alright,” Schneider whispers, stroking his hand up over his side, to cup around his rib cage, feeling it expand and deflate in his tender hold. He continues clinging to him, feeling oddly comfortable. He is almost always in a state of self-awareness, paranoia of being weird, or awkward. But now, this is okay. He closes his eyes. Paul’s heartbeat and the warmth of his body comforts him. Paul begins to sleepily stroke at Schneider’s curls.

They remain like this for some time. Paul is silent, breathing slower now, his stroking becoming lethargic, until his hand stills entirely. Schneider continues enjoying the sound of his life, the pumping of his blood, the slow beating of his heart. He realizes he could do this again and again, every night. It’s therapeutic. He turns his head just enough to kiss Paul on the chest.

Paul makes no sound. Schneider carefully rests his head back down. He comes to realize his heart is beating slower now, his breathing deeper. Paul fell asleep. With heavy eyes and a heavier body, Schneider knows he’ll be following right behind.

**Author's Note:**

> babypaulchen.tumblr.com


End file.
